The weeks passed at the pace of a snail on a garden’s soil. A part of me was at my wit’s end waiting for Lord Evenus to come back. I was brooding and keeping to myself when Marie has come up to me in the living room to hand me a letter.
“It’s for you,” she said, and I stared at it, a bit confused but I took it anyway. She left me by myself as I opened it. A large smile found its way to my face when I saw who it was. Lord Evenus had written to me, and I got to look at his messy handwriting on the letter addressed to me.
It didn’t say much at all. It just asked me how my visit back home went and if I was doing well.
Troy has been catching mice in the camp. I wonder if he will keep looking for them when we return home.
A piece of it read. I laughed, resting my head on my hand as I looked through it. He told me of having to sort of fights amongst his men, and how the heat and occasional rain made camping difficult. Sometimes he would talk of the battles he fought or important things like his correspondence with other Aristocrats. He would ask for my advice on things that were way beyond my knowledge, but I tried my best to respond to them as thoughtfully as I could.
My letters to him were boring. I spoke to him about my chores, and riding Bessa in the afternoons. I told him that I was practicing with the gun that he had lent me and that I was still afraid that I might hurt myself with it one of these days. A lot of emotions would pour through me as I wrote, but I would stop myself from writing them down in fear that words of love and longing weren’t what the Lord needed at that time.
However, at a point, the Lord has rambled on about how much he missed me and wanted to hold me. I had found myself tearing up as I squeezed on the letter in my hands. The next time I wrote back I told him how lonely I was and how I wished he was at Barcombe with me.
We will meet soon. I cannot wait to hold and love you again.
I read those words over and over, and the rate of my heartbeat would pick up with each reread.
Something else that the Lord did was to correct the grammar and spelling in my letters. At first, I felt it was rude, but I could see he was doing it with good intentions. He had been helping me with my reading and writing, but it was still a bit annoying to have my words of love canceled over and corrected. Sometimes it would vex me, but sometimes I would laugh and blush at it.
An unfortunate thing about leading men in an army is being stuck within close boundaries with them. I’m dismayed to tell you that many of them do not practice basic hygiene and are in fact useless without their wives.
Do say, Manfred, how is it that Christ has made us the way we are. It’s a cruel joke to be attracted to men, is it not?
Those words made me laugh, more so because I knew what he meant. Cleanliness was associated with women. Filth in some contexts was associated with men. Catholic monks were known to bathe irregularly. Physicians suggest that opening the pores on one’s skin with warm waters could lead to illness and possession by evil spirits. I would take the chance of being ill or possessed over building up grime on my body.
Sometimes a letter wouldn’t come for days, and I would assume Lord Evenus was busy or maybe even dead. Once, during one of these spells I had gone to his bedroom, hugging one of his pillows as I sobbed and waited for the bad news, I had convinced myself was coming.
The bad news never came, only a lengthy letter explaining that the Lord’s men had been short of supplies and the last few days had been them putting up a defense against their enemies, so he couldn’t write to me.
I’m very sorry for not reaching out to you, my love. I know how worried you must have been. Forgive me.
Whatever anger I felt towards him had left my body once I read these words. I replied to him, telling him how worried I had been and just like that, we returned to our pattern of sending letters to each other back and forth.
When the day of his arrival came, I spent time in the stables, dressed in my finest clothes and drenched in smelling powders. I wanted him to see me and be surprised. I wanted him to see me and be overwhelmed with want like I had lusted for him for the past few months.
The weather was good. The rain from earlier had left the earth damp and the air cool—a big contrast with the hot dryness from the past few days.
The floor began to shake long before the march of horses was visible. I came out to the courtyard, then. I let myself look at the horizon in anticipation. The pace of my heartbeat picked up when I say the first few horses with horsemen carrying the black-blue flag of Barcombe. I clenched my hands into fists, standing on my tiptoes as I watched the group of horsemen approach the gates.
The gatemen didn’t start drawing down the bridge and opening the gates until the men were a lot closer. I could see Lord Evenus now, even though his head was hidden behind a helmet—his black horse was recognizable in front of the march. Also, Troy was running up ahead and made it to the gates before all the men.
The men soon got entry into the compound, and soon the courtyard was being flooded with horses that were being ridden in the direction of the stables. At the far back of the match were the carriages that carried their supplies and weapons. I should have gone to help them upload since Marie and the two other housekeepers that came in to clean and help offload were waiting on it to cross the gates, but instead, I searched the crowd of men that smelt like sweat and charcoal in search of Lord Evenus who I had lost sight of in the frenzy of throttling horses.
Searching the crowd of men was hard, and I almost gave up until I was pulled by the arm. I turned, looking at the person before grinning when I saw who it was.
“Sir…” I trailed, watching as Lord Evenus look of his helmet with his free hand. “I’ve missed you,” I muttered under my breath, feeling my face grow warm as toe bout of shyness poured over me. Troy sniffed my free hand, but I shooed him away, making Lord Evenus chuckle.
“I’ve missed you too Manfred,” the Lord said, squeezing my hand. I looked down at our joined hands, before looking up at Lord Evenus again. He was still wearing his armor and a sword was hanging from its place on his belt.
“You cut your hair…” he trailed, and I reached up to touch my brown locks. They had grown a bit since my mother chopped them, but they were still a lot shorter than the Lord was used to seeing them.
“Yes,” I said as he reached out to touch it, letting his fingers run through my brown hair.
He let go of my hair. “It looks grand,” he said, and I smiled, not wanting to tell him the context to why it was the way it was.
We stood in the middle of the noisy crowd, not saying anything to each other for a bit. Lord Evenus tugged my hand, pulling me through the crowd until we had reached the back door that led to the kitchen. We slipped inside, and he pulled me along with him until we were in the common room.
He put away his sword, and a gasp left my lips as he lifted me by the waist before planting a kiss on my neck. “Oh, I’ve missed you,” he said, nuzzling my neck as a low hum rang through him.
A smile formed on my face. I let my fingers run through his dark hair, sighing as he kissed along my neckline.
“What did you do when I was away?” He asked, putting me down, but still having his hands wrapped around my waist. A sudden flash of the painting I had found in the Lord’s room ran through my mind. I blinked, pushing behind the memory before saying something else.
“I’ve been reading, and cleaning,” I muttered, still a bit uncomfortable from my random memory. I had told myself to forget about it. If the Lord wanted to tell me more about Sawyer, he would do so at his own time.
The Lord hummed, cupping my face with hands before pressing his forehead to mine. “I was so frustrated with everything,” he started saying, closing his eyes. “Manfred, you don’t know how much I missed you,” the Lord said, and I felt my heart pound, meeting his eyes when they pulled open. He had the darkest eyes that were framed by strong lids. I noticed the little wounds on him. There were some light scars on his face, but they would heal, unlike the pink keloid slash mark he had gotten all those years ago.
“Manfred?” The Lord’s voice made me blink. “Is something the matter?” he asked, giving me a concerned look. I shook my head, letting out a sigh.
“So many wounds,” I muttered, and he raised a hand to the scar on his face.
“I suppose so,” he muttered, letting his hand drop as I reached out to cup his face with my hands. The hairs on his growing beard were rough under my palms. I leaned forward, pressing my lips against his and tasting grape wine. We kissed as men sorted their things and began to go home one by one.
I was glad that Lord Evenus was back. The short separation had only strengthened my love for him.
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